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<title>Writer's Month 2020 Prompt 3: Magic by RiatheMai</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26443954">Writer's Month 2020 Prompt 3: Magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiatheMai/pseuds/RiatheMai'>RiatheMai</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Writer's Month 2020 Prompts [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Children Left Alone, Gen, Magic, Protective Dean Winchester, Sammy with Powers, Weechester, Writer's Month 2020, Writing Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:33:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26443954</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiatheMai/pseuds/RiatheMai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Writer's Month 2020 (August):</p><p>The first time, Dean rationalized it away. The next time, there was no denying it, no matter how much he wanted to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Writer's Month 2020 Prompts [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Writer's Month 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Writer's Month 2020 Prompt 3: Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I miss writing WeeChesters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>The first time, Dean rationalized it away. Sammy sat in the dirt beneath a half-dead tree behind the motel Dad had left them at while he went off after whatever it was he was chasing this week. His back was to Dean, but he looked up as soon as Dean’s worn sneakers crunched in the gravel. His smile was huge and bright, completely unaffected by the truths that Dean now knew about the world and the horrors that lived in it.</p><p>That smile was infectious. Dean found himself returning it despite the fact he’d been bored and frustrated—angry even—for most of the day about being left behind. Sammy could always make him smile, even when he really didn’t feel like it.</p><p>“What’cha doin’, Sammy?” he asked.</p><p>Sammy’s hands were cupped in front of his small body, but something sparkled or shined out from between his chubby and dirty fingers.</p><p>“What do you got?”</p><p>“A s’prise!” Sammy scooted around on his butt and opened his hands. There was nothing there.</p><p>Sammy seemed as shocked by this as Dean did. His bright smile disappeared, and tears took its place.</p><p>“No! Where’d it go?” he cried. He immediately started digging in the dirt around him as though he’d merely dropped it.</p><p>Except, Dean knew there had been nothing there.</p><p>Still, he rushed to Sammy’s side and pretended to help him look, pushing acorns and small stones and the occasional spent cigarette butt out of the way.</p><p>“What was it?” he asked, but Sammy just cried harder.</p><p>“I made it for you!”</p><p>“Then you can make me another one,” he told him mostly to get him to stop crying. He hated it when Sammy cried. It twisted up his stomach and made it hurt.</p><p>“Promise?” Sammy asked, wiping a dirty hand across his eyes that left a trail of mud smeared across his face.</p><p>“You’re a mess, squirt,” Dean said instead. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll get you grilled cheese for dinner.”</p><p>“With chocolate milk?”</p><p>Dad didn’t usually let Sammy have chocolate milk with supper; he said it made it hard for Sammy to go to sleep, but Dad wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow night.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>As Dean steered him back toward their motel room, something shiny on the ground caught his eye. He kicked aside the dirt and unearthed a small pull tab from a soda can.</p><p><em>That must have been what I saw him holding</em>, he thought.</p><p>The next time, there was no denying it, no matter how much he wanted to.</p><p>He’d left a bathed and pajamaed Sammy in their motel room as he’d gone to the attached diner to get them dinner. As he stood outside their room, juggling a take-out bag filled with grilled cheese sandwiches and chips, and two cups of chocolate milk in one hand and the room key in the other, he could hear Sammy giggling through the door.</p><p>A quick scan of the parking lot showed that no one had moved into the room next to theirs, but Dean still felt his heart kick in his chest. Dad always told them they needed to stay quiet when he wasn’t there, and not draw attention. Sammy was still too little to understand why it was so important, so sometimes he forgot.</p><p>Dean got the door open without spilling a drop and quickly closed it again behind him, all without disturbing the line of salt along the threshold. The chain and deadbolt soon followed.</p><p>“Dean!” Sammy squealed excitedly as Dean dropped everything, food, drinks, and key, onto the table by the door. “I made it again. <em>Look!</em>”</p><p>Dean looked up at his brother. “What did you—"</p><p>And froze.</p><p>Sammy sat in the middle of the bed, both hands cupped together and held out toward Dean. Something nestled in the center of his palms.</p><p>Something that glowed bright and orange, like fire.</p><p>“<em>Shit!”</em> Dean cried out and he lunged towards his little brother, grabbing at his hands. He braced himself for pain, but it never came.</p><p>“Hey!” Sammy tried to pull his hands away, but Dean held firm, turning his brother’s hands over and back looking for damage and finding none.</p><p>No burns.</p><p>No redness.</p><p>No marks of any kind.</p><p>No anything that glowed or shined or made light of any kind.</p><p>“You said a bad word,” Sammy informed him in a loud whisper, and Dean could only stare at him in disbelief.</p><p>“What was that, Sammy?” he asked. His voice shook.</p><p>“I made it,” came Sammy’s reply. “Look.”</p><p>Sammy closed his eyes and screwed up his face like he did when he was thinking real hard about something. As Dean watched, Sammy’s hands began to glow.</p><p>Brighter and brighter, until a small ball of fire appeared in the palm of his hand.</p><p>As if by magic.</p><p>Every instinct told Dean to bat it away before Sammy could get burned, but he couldn’t move. Then Sammy opened his eyes and gave Dean a big, happy smile. “See?”</p><p>Dean did see, and he couldn’t pretend he didn’t. Not anymore. No matter how much he wanted to. He slowly reached out his hand, and Sammy must have thought Dean wanted to touch it, so he pushed his hand closer in offering. But, Dean just closed his hand around his brother’s, hiding the flame from view.</p><p>There was no heat.</p><p>Sammy’s face fell. “You don’t like it?”</p><p>It took a few tries before Dean’s voice worked without shaking. “Of course, I do,” he lied. “It’s just…your grill cheese is getting cold. Stop playing around and come eat.”</p><p>Sammy’s smile returned and he jumped off the bed and skipped over to where Dean had left their food. Dean remained where he was. He couldn’t make himself move.</p><p>
  <em>What had Sammy done?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What did it mean?</em>
</p><p><em>What would </em>Dad<em> say?</em></p><p>"Wait ‘til I show daddy!” Sammy called through a mouthful of sandwich.</p><p>“NO!”</p><p>Dean was off the bed and kneeling at Sammy’s side before he realized it. He grabbed Sammy’s hands and made him look at him. Sammy’s eyes grew wide, and Dean could see tears start to form. “You can’t show Daddy.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>He was scaring him, he knew it; but Dean was scared too. And, he realized with a clarity that shocked him, he was more afraid <em>for</em> Sammy than he was <em>of</em> him. “You said you made it for me, right?”</p><p>Sammy nodded.</p><p>“Well, then I want this to be our own special secret, okay? No one else can know. Ever. Promise?”</p><p>For a second, Dean thought Sammy would balk, and he held his breath. Then Sammy smiled again, big and bright, like he didn’t have a clue how hard Dean’s heart was pounding.</p><p>“I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
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